


Incapable of Making Alright Decisions, and Having Bad Ideas

by quinziggle



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gabe is a bit of a hoe, M/M, Mikey has endless patience for everyone but Gabe, Mikey rescues Gabe from bad situations, Post-Break Up, problematic exes, spot the pattycake, there is not enough Gabe/Mikey in this world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7741576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinziggle/pseuds/quinziggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey gets a call from his ex, and decides to rescue him in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incapable of Making Alright Decisions, and Having Bad Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> not sure what this is tbh. I was sad and I wrote this so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯   
> I was listening to "why'd you only call me when you're high". I doubt anyone will read this, but you're welcome

"Heeyyyy," the voice slurred, the combination of drink and bad phone reception distorting the sound. 

Mikey sighed; unfortunately he'd know that voice anywhere. 

"Gabe, I've fucking told you before. Stop fucking calling me. We're over, remember?" 

There was a long pause on the other end, then the other man let out a low rumbling laugh. "Whaaaat?"

Rubbing his temples in a pathetic attempt to keep calm, Mikey almost felt like crying. 

This was utter bullshit, however most of his ex's stupid behaviour was, and so he didn't exactly expect any better. It would be nice, though, to be surprised, however today apparently was not the day.

Clearing his mind and throat to speak, Mikey asked through gritted teeth, "Gabe, are you drunk?"   
He knew the answer. 

The only response was a strangely high pitched giggle. 

"Gabe, you little shit..." Mikey growled under his breath.   
Aloud, he said in a very false sounding patient voice, "Are you? Or are you high again, you stupid fuck?" 

On the other end of the line, he could hear retching and coughing. 

Immediately alarmed, he spoke again, this time more urgently.   
"Gabe?! Are you okay?"

The older man only groaned in reply. 

Mikey fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table and only just managed to put them on without poking himself in the eye.   
"Okay, where are you? I'm going to come and get you." 

"...Th' alley outside th' Flamingo..." Gabe mumbled, before continuing to make wet retching noises into the phone. 

Mikey grimaced. "Right. I'm coming. Stay where you are, idiot."   
He rolled out of bed, grabbing a hoodie from the floor and struggling into a pair of - far too tight - jeans. 

Cursing, he staggered down the stairs, stuffing his phone into his jeans and swiping his keys from where they had been tossed on the side. 

Without lacing his shoes, he was out the door, quickly covering the distance to the parking lot, partly due to urgency, partly just because of his long legs. 

There were a few late night stragglers drifting about, but none were anyone he knew. Hopefully that meant Gabe had stayed put. "Hopefully" being the key word.

He turned the key in the ignition, and started his "hunk of junk" of a car, as his brother Gerard called it. 

On his way to his ex's favourite haunt, the Flamingo Bar, Mikey must have broken a few dozen speed limits; luckily no one stopped him. 

If it was too late even for the police to be out, surely it was too late for fucking Gabe to be up doing stupid shit. 

Apparently it was true that there was no sleep for the wicked... or the idiotic. 

Mikey cursed himself for leaving his warm bed to go save his stupid, stupid ex-boyfriend.

What the hell had he been thinking? Something unrealistic and mushy probably. Or maybe he was just trying to be a good human being (for once, his brain added on). 

Trying to shake off his thoughts, Mikey parked and got out of the car, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

Ignoring the neon pink flashing sign and the thumping house music greeting him at the entrance, he walked round to the back alley, where he hoped he'd find Gabe. 

There were a few people sprawled on the ground and after stepping over them, it occurred to him that Gabe might be one of them. 

He nudged the nearest with his foot.   
"Gabe?" 

The person groaned and rolled over.   
Nope. Too blonde.

"Gabe, you fucker, where are you?" He called, frustrated.

Mikey strode down the filthy alleyway, pushing the drunks that stumbled into him aside. 

He froze when he finally found Gabe, his tall form unmistakable, even when on his knees in front of some stranger. 

The random guy had his nasty hands in Gabe's hair and he was making noises like a dying goat while seemingly attempting to jam his entire lower body down the kneeling man's throat. 

"What the fuck." 

Mikey growled, lunging forwards and solidly punching the random pervert in the jaw. 

"What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Think. You're. Doing?" He spat out, accentuating each word with another punch. 

He pulled a disorientated Gabe to his feet, as the man collapsed to the ground, groaning weakly. 

"Come on," he growled, pulling Gabe along with him. "I'm taking you home." 

"Mmmiikeyy?" Gabe slurred. 

"Shhh. Come on, moron." 

Amazingly enough, they made their way back to the car without any other incidents.

Mikey half lifted, half dragged Gabe into the passenger seat and buckled him in.   
"Now, don't you dare puke, or I'll just leave you next time you decide to act like a fucking idiot." 

Gabe, eyes closed, merely mumbled something and sighed softly. 

There was drool all over his face and he stank of sweat and alcohol, but Mikey ignored that as he leaned over to brush the hair out of Gabe's eyes and quickly peck a kiss on his forehead. 

Then cursing Gabe, himself, and the world, he drove them back to the parking lot near his apartment. 

When they arrived, Mikey stared at his ex-boyfriend, sprawled out in his car; a complete mess.   
He sighed and held his head in his hands, concentrating on his breathing and trying not to focus on the disappointed face Gerard would make if he knew. 

After a while, he felt calm enough to get out of the car, breathe in carefully, and open the passenger side door. 

He reached over and unbuckled the sleeping man's seatbelt.   
Unsure of how he was going to manage his weight, Mikey shook Gabe's shoulder roughly to try and wake him. 

The taller man groaned in his sleep. 

Frustrated and cold, Mikey put his arms around his ex, and began to haul him out of the car, locking it behind him.   
He staggered towards the exit, Gabe slumped on top of him. 

The closer they got to his apartment, the heavier Gabe seemed to get. 

After enduring a very awkward lift journey with one of his neighbours, a short nerdy looking guy (whose name Mikey can't remember), in which Gabe had briefly woken up and babbled about cobras and the apocalypse, Mikey felt ready to keel over then and there, and let Gabe sort both of them out. 

However, that was a shit idea: Gabe couldn't even look after himself sober, let alone intoxicated. And his poor neighbour (Paul? Pat??) already looked alarmed enough. 

Finally, Mikey had managed to drag them both into his apartment. 

He dumped Gabe onto the couch, before heading to the kitchen to stick his head under the tap. 

The icy water was just enough to jolt him back into alertness, as he went back to make sure Gabe didn't vomit or dribble on any of his stuff. 

Too late - there was already a wet spot from where Gabe's face was resting on the couch.

"Stupid fucking Gabe!" Mikey cursed aloud, dragging the older man off his couch and (slowly) up the stairs into the bathroom. 

Sitting him down on the toilet seat, Mikey filled the sink with warm water. 

"Remind me why I'm doing this again," he mumbled to himself as he reached for a flannel, dipping it into the water and gently rubbing Gabe's face clean of sweat and god knows what else. 

"Sit tight, fuckface." He grumbled, squeezing the flannel out to dry.   
"I'll be two seconds." 

He walked down to the kitchen, trying to stretch out his aching back, and finding a glass for Gabe.

He glared at the clock, muttering grumpily to himself. Fucking Gabe.   
Mikey stomped back up the stairs and into the bathroom, carefully holding the glass. 

Kneeling beside the slumped form of his ex, he gently stroked the hair that was plastered to Gabe's forehead.   
"Hey," he whispered, almost fondly. "Wake up, stupid. I brought you chocolate milk. Your favourite." 

Gabe groaned quietly. 

Mikey flicked the side of his face.   
"Come on, idiot, drink up. Then you can sleep." 

Gabe opened his eyes a crack.   
Mikey took that as a good sign.   
He held the glass to the other man's mouth and poured a tiny bit of the milk down. Gabe licked his lips. 

Gently supporting the older man's head, Mikey helped him drink nearly half the glass. "More?" He asked.   
Gabe shook his head, paling. 

Quickly, Mikey put the glass down on the side and pulled Gabe down to kneel beside the toilet, opening the lid just in time for him to puke up the contents of his stomach.

Mikey screwed up his face in disgust, but stroked his back gently anyway. 

Gabe spat bile and coughed weakly. 

"Finished?" Mikey asked.   
The other man nodded. 

"Come on, then," Mikey sighed. "Let's get you some water." 

•~•~•~•~•

**Author's Note:**

> I might continue this if I feel like it


End file.
